Figured You Out
by CWprodigy
Summary: He should be revolted by the psychopath's taste on his tongue, the coarse salt, tang of blood, chalky gunpowder, cheap lipstick. And he knows he should be disgusted by the lusty look in his eye and he would be, if he weren't the one who put it there. Dominant!Crane/Joker slash.


A/N: Hello all! I know I haven't updated Add and S and it Becomes Slaughter in months and I'm so sorry about that. Between work and moving and getting all my summer homework done I haven't really updated anything which sucks for all you loyal fanfiction readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers out there so I apologize. Anyway, this story is inspired by Figured You Out by Nickelback and a few of the lyrics are included below. Also I'm trying out a new writing style that uses a lot of ands, commas, and sentence fragments. Please review and let me know if ya think I should continue.

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_X_

_I like your pants around your feet_

_And I like the dirt that's on your knees_

_And I like the way you still say please_

_While you're looking up at me_

_You're like my favorite damned disease _

X

Jonathan can't believe he just kissed him. It had been a rush of hateful words spewed from that mocking red-painted mouth and he'd just wanted to suffocate the sound of demented laughter. Now he's waiting, _waiting_, for the bastard to rebuke him, to smile crudely. To try to wrangle from his grip, clawing and forcing his skin to unfurl like ribbon, blood leaking like thread underneath the pressure of dirty, uneven fingernails. He's waiting to be compared to the sick fucks at Arkham or even the Bat himself because like them he was using him and his body at a time when he's too doped up to truly consent. Or in the bat's case as a personal punching bag.

But no denouncing comes.

The Joker just stares, blood leaking into his mouth from one of Crane's previous and surprisingly brutal punches and getting caked into the knotted, mangled scar tissue inside his cheeks. His eyes are glazed over from the Percocet the doctor had administered him not long before their argument, tongue traveling lazily, mixing lipstick with blood as he traces his mouth.

The Joker's green eyes glow dully in black pits of eye make-up, no longer shining as his gaze unfocused only to be snapped back as he's pushed further into the unforgiving wall. The set of Jonathan's sharply stubbled jaw shows the irrational anger welling up and choking the air from his throat as he grabs the clown's purple jacket more firmly, ignoring already his bruised and bleeding knuckles.

"Say something," he growls, shaking the madman under his hands. All the jostling must upset the Joker's injuries but he smiles lazily, if not unaware at the doctor, flicking out his tongue as more of a purposeful teasing than the habit he's developed over the years.

Jonathan Crane knows psychology. He knows how bodies and brains react under pressure, how anger can change into other things and how provoking men such as the Joker wants people to simply react without thinking.

He's never been a physical man, relying on science and chemistry and proven fact to destroy his enemies. But something akin to bloodlust washes over him, fist clenching, cocking back without his consent, and the joker's eyes say "_do it! I want you to"_ and suddenly he's kissing him, pulling him closer to his impossibly scorching body while simultaneously trying to remove the ridiculous purple coat.

Joker makes no move to stop him, manic laughs swallowed by the other criminal's lips, frigid and chapped and brutal from the cold swirling just outside Crane's apartment door. But it's not enough. No, Crane wants him to _react_, to make noises that only he's privy to hear. So he wrenches his lips away with a sickeningly wet smack and latches his mouth onto the clown's neck, sinking his teeth into the scarred flesh until salt and pennies flood his mouth and _finally. _The joker mewls and writhes under him, trying to wriggle free from the sharp canines and the doctor would be a damned to Hell liar if he said the friction wasn't delicious.

"_Crane_," Joker says, voice thick from blood clotting his throat and the drugs coursing through his already bruised, blue veins. Arousal flows through him. "Crane… shit."

And Crane chuckles with mirthless sadistic humor, licking the redness from his lips and swallowing it with greed. He surveys the other man, all glossy-eyed, doped up, harsh pants escaping his too wide mouth, legs splayed like a wanton whore.

He thinks he should be disgusted, disgusted by the green and purple get-up, the greasy green hair hanging limply like overcooked noodles, the network of scars carved into cheeks like sharp spider webs made by an arachnid on crack. He should be revolted by the psychopath's taste on his tongue, the coarse salt, tang of blood, chalky gunpowder, cheap lipstick. And he _knows _he should be disgusted by the lusty look in his eye and he _knows_ he would be if he weren't the one who put it there.

"Look at you," he snarls gruffly, voice a constant limbo of superiority he's always felt and revulsion he never will. Scarecrow is itching to come out, to play and tease. He chuckles lowly, eyes swimming. He can just make out the swell of the Joker's erection through his pants and shudders as an unexpected shot of arousal floods through him, flushing out the anger that once held free reign. He's so close to him, breath hot on the criminal's neck.

"Always knew you were a bit of a slut," Crow tacks on, more musing to himself than actually engaging the aroused man in conversation. Joker hears anyway and lets out a whine and a growl, trying to force the other man off. He curses him, spewing obscenities from his ruby lips, relaying them easily as if they were song lyrics he knew by heart.

"Fuck," he exhales as Jonathan lewdly grinds their erections together to silence him, air too close and tight, inescapable and hot. He can feel his erection swell and the searing heat as Crane scrapes his tongue over where he'd bitten him. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing nervously, heart pounding with a dull ache inside his ribcage.

Crane's previously cerulean pools are black, black as the Bat's suit and cowl, black as the filthy streets of Gotham after dark. But it's the look in those eyes that makes a combination of anticipation and slight fear infiltrate the wall of aloofness the drugs had gifted him. The doctor looks like he wants to _destroy _him.

"Not that this isn't nice and all," Joker begins, voice raspier than usual. Pain, arousal, and the effects of the drug make his speech slurred and sloppily incoherent. "But, um, I'm not that type of girl." His giggles turn into peals of laughter, and the other man stifles the urge to punch him in the face. He silences him with more kisses, harsh, unwavering, punishing kisses.

"Shut up," He growls and the madman does, for a moment.

"Come on doc," Joker says with a lofty grin, reaching out to touch his chest. Jonathan can feel the warmth through his shirt. "First you tell me to say somethin, now ya want me to shut up. Even for a guy with two identities that's pretty confusing. Or is it that I confuse you? Are you puzzled by me doc? Do I, uh, _intrigue_ you?"

If he was as high as the Joker was he would've said yes. But even though clown is a far better poker player than he is, he knows how to bluff.

"You're quite simple actually," he says, long fingers coming to slowly pull down suspenders and unbutton the harlequin's shirt. The shorter man tuts, somehow intrigued and not offended.

"Oh?" A shiver rakes through him as fingers ghost over his pert pink nipples. Another hooked grin as he recovers. "How so?"

"Don't get me wrong," Crane continues slightly breathless, moving swift fingers to undo his own belt. "You're intricate and complicated to the point where I don't think even _you _understand what you are or why. But at moments like this you're simple in the way that you only want one thing."

"And that is?" The Joker has his hands around his neck now and they both know how easy it would be to kill him where he stood. But the clown's half-naked, aroused, and the closest thing to _needy _either of them has ever seen so he waits for the question to be answered.

"Simple," Crane says again, "to be fucked."

And their mouths are crashing together all tongues and teeth, the taste of copper and need between them. The Joker's fingers blindly rip apart the doctor's shirt and buttons go flying like miniature projectiles. Without the suspenders his pinstriped pants sag and Jonathan's large hands find purchase on pale hips after the article of clothing comes to pool at the madman's ankles.

Joker, on his part, is practically dry-humping him, rutting against him like an insatiable animal, impatient moans spilling from a scarred, perpetually smiling mouth.

"Look at you, you little slut, always so hungry for cock." It's Scarecrow talking now, having lusted after this man for nearly as long as Jonathan has. The Joker moans lowly and looks up at him, all swollen lips and lustful eyes and swallowing thickly is the only Jonathan can do to stop himself from forcing the sociopath on his knees right there in the living room.

The joker raises himself and crashes their lips together again, jumping and wrapping his legs around the doctor's waist, pushing them against the wall. Crow's hands go to his ass, kneading as the Joker groans into his mouth.

Crane starts walking backwards, down the hall, past a bathroom, a small closet until he reaches his bedroom where all hell breaks loose.

They don't make it to the bed.

He's inside him without any preparation per the Joker's insistence and thrusting into the tight heat as if he's found God in another man's entrance and doesn't want to let go. The Joker is giggling and groaning under him, begging for Jonathan to go _harder, faster, there! _And he comes without any attention to his dick followed shortly by the man on top of him.

The clown lays sated on the hardwood floors nearly being crushed by the weight on top of him, tacky with sweat and when Crane pulls out of him painfully slow he can feel semen and blood trail down his thighs. The trademark greasepaint is smeared and melted beyond repair and his perpetually wet; swamp green hair is plastered to his forehead. Their combined breaths are gasping and quick in the otherwise silent air and the body heat radiating from them is more reassuring than uncomfortable.

"We should get up," Crane finally says, voice hazy and slow from the sex, stupid. He makes no move to do so and the Joker lets out a wet chuckle.

"You're not one for taking your own advice are ya doc?" With the grace of a snake he slips from the doctor's hold, stretching as he stands as if he isn't completely nude. His body is slender, far smaller than the garish suit boasts. It's sculpted and sunbaked, lean muscles under scarred skin. Fresh, rapidly forming bruises and bite marks rake up and down his frame. A particularly nasty bite is bleeding on his collarbone.

He flops on the bed, making himself comfortable under the sheets, smearing make-up when he nuzzles into a pillow. A yawn escapes his lips uninhibited and he cracks one eye open to stare at the man still lying on the ground.

"Ya comin? Well I suppose you already _did_ but ya sleeping or what? Not that I mind all the extra room."

Crane has never felt the awkwardness similar to that of adolescence in his own home until now. Yet the Joker seems unaware of it and is looking at him expectantly. The germaphobe part of him is demanding a shower but the rest of his faculties insist upon sleep and he's never been one to second-guess his diagnoses.

With a small sigh he raises his long-limbed form and pads over to the bed, slipping under the cool sheets and feeling goose bumps spread across his skin like disease. The Joker curls around him without explanation, already half-asleep, still bleeding and covered in cum. A small fist rests on Crane's lightly hairy chest and the doctor doesn't even have the energy to psychoanalyze what this all means as he falls into the black chasm of exhausted slumber.

X

A/N: So that's all she wrote. But there can be more! Please review and tell me what ya think because as much as I love Crane/Joker I feel as though I suck at writing them. I plan on this to be a multi-chaptered fic of their budding relationship and already have the next chap in the works so stay tuned. All reviews/critiques will be appreciated and have a goodnight.


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